Angels Will Die Covered In White
by SPNAngelGirl
Summary: Castiel is a young boy struggling for survival on the cold winter streets of a small American town. Selling matches is the only way to get by. But on the Eve of Christmas, his life is bound to change. Little Match Girl inspired AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey Everyone**

**First off, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Hope you all had a wonderful day and spent it celebrating it with the ones you love!**

**Second, this little AU story two shot that I have made is dedicated to one of my followers KurtWinchester! Love ya girl (in a totaly platonic, non creepy way of course) I know its a little late for Christmas but hey, think of it as either a late gift or an early New Years present ;)**

**Well lets not waste any more time *looks at self* why don't we just dive right in!**

**Warning: Story may jerk a few tears. If you're suseptible to the emotion named Sadness and do not wish this knowledge to be exposed please turn back now! All others, handkerchiefs are on your right. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't profit. Don't Sue (please)**

* * *

It was still dark out. The sun had not yet risen to wake the sleepy American town with its golden rays, and yet a single young boy was already up. He sat on a street corner under a dark metal lamp post on a snow covered step waiting for the sun. His trousers were ripped at the knees, shoes worn and falling apart and his sock less toes peaked out behind stretched seams. The young boy wrapped his tattered excuse for a coat around him and huddled in the small amount of warmth it provided for his icy skin. A small, patched cap sat atop his mop of unruly dark brown hair and his light blue eyes watched captivated as the eastern horizon started to lighten with pale oranges and pinks.

His name was Castiel, a boy merely 12 years of age that along with his older brother had been orphaned by the deadly sickness that had spread through the area long before, only to lose that same brother to a horrible accident only years ago. Life had dealt him many low blows and yet here he was, alive but poorer than seemed possible.

Castiel now lived with a couple, Mr. Crowley and Mrs. Lilith, who had been pronounced his guardians. They were unkind, spiteful individuals who never wanted him in the first place, who only feed him enough to get by on in a day and forced him to sell matches to bring in more money for them to use for themselves. And so, like every day before this, young Castiel was out before the sun, small pockets filled with matches as he waited for the morning bustle of people to begin.

The sun had finally risen; ray's reaching out to gently caress the snowy streets in lines of gold's and light bronzes. People began making their way out of the quaint houses and out into the street. Men in dark warm coats and hats, and women in long dark dresses whose hems lightly brushed the glittering snow. Castiel stood from his spot on the step digging into his pockets and pulling out a handful of matches which he held slightly in front of him so they could be seen. He then continued on trying to grab the attention of the people passing by, calling out his claim of selling matches at a low price.

The morning progressed slowly, and as Castiel moved up and down the street he had yet to sell a single to match to anyone. Some of those that passed simply brushed by him in a rush to get to wherever they were going, others shot him withering looks as they walked on, but most just ignored him all together. Castiel couldn't help but think back to what Mr. Crowley had said to him before he left earlier, that if he hadn't sold every single match he had he could forget about coming home that night. Worry began to seep through him, causing him to lose his concentration and so he accidentally stepped in the way of a man practically running down the street. Before he knew it he was unceremoniously shoved out of the way by rough hands and he fell backwards, landing hard in a small pile of snow on the ground. The man didn't stop or even bother to look back, but instead kept right on the way he was going towards a small shop across the road.

"Hey Cas." Castiel's head shot up when his name was called by a familiar voice. A boy about the same age as Castiel was running towards him, face scrunched up in concern.

"Hello Dean," he said when the boy reached him, arms and legs flailing in an unsuccessful attempt at pushing himself back to his feet. Then a small hand shot out and grabbed his arm, pulling him up and keeping him steady.

Dean Winchester was the oldest child in the Winchester family. He had dirty blonde, short cropped hair, light green eyes that sparkled in the morning sun, and a splatter of dark freckles across his nose and red tinged cheeks. He stood a head taller than Castiel, with broad shoulders and strong arms for a boy his age which came from helping his father at work, a stark comparison to his own slight and wiry frame. He was dressed in a warm wool coat and pants, the good dark brown shoes on his feet where scuffed and dirty, no doubt from the mucky streets, and a long black and blue scarf was wrapped snug around his neck.

"Are you okay," Dean asked, gaze quickly skimming up and down Castiel's body checking for any signs of injuries. "That jerk pushed you pretty hard."

"I am fine Dean, thank you." Castiel assured the boy

Dean stared at him skeptically, doing another quick visual once over before nodding his head in acceptance, a smile quirking his lips. Castiel smiled back and the two moved to take a seat on a small step, Dean tugging at the scarf and proclaiming that even though he was happy his mother had made it for him it was to itchy, all while Castiel just shook his head muttering "Of course Dean" in all the right places.

The two had met a few months back on this very street. Dean's mother, Mary, had sent him into town with some money to fetch a new pack of matches. He had come across Castiel as he marched determinedly up and down the streets, holding out his fistful of matches and proclaiming the price. When he heard that the price for the boy's matches was cheaper than the store not five feet away, Dean immediately headed over. He announced loudly, to the back of the boy's head, that he wanted to purchase enough matches that would be equal to a pack you could get from the store. That's when Castiel had turned and electrifying blue meet bright green and Dean found he was unable to look away. They had stared at each other for what seemed like ages before he broke eye contact to gesture down to the other boy's hands. Castiel had lowered his head shyly and counted out the matches needed before handing them over to Dean, naming the price in a barely audible voice. He had paid, but then found it hard to leave. He wanted to stay, to learn more about this strange boy with the tattered clothes and bright eyes, and before he knew it he was leaning against the lamp post talking to him. Their friendship was born that day, and from then on Dean would always stop by every day he was able to see Castiel.

They boys had been talking for a little while, Castiel timidly laughing at all of his friends jokes, when all of a sudden Dean's eyes lit up. He shot a smile at the other boy and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small chunk of bread. He grasped both ends in his hands and broke it in half, handing a piece off to Castiel.

"Mom made some bread yesterday and I brought some to share with you," Dean explained, taking a large bite out of the fluffy white food, and then leaning over with a smile and jabbing his friend in the side with his elbow. "Thought you were looking a little skinny, need to put some meat on your bones." Then he ruffled his hair. "Besides, it's the day before Christmas you know, so shoot me for wanting to share something with my friend."

The thing was, Castiel didn't know. Aside from the always eventful visits from Dean, the days just seemed to blur together for him, with nothing really special to mark them aside from the changing of seasons. So he hadn't realized it was as close to Christmas as it was.

Dean saw the confusion and then sad realization pass over his friends face and looked like he was about to say something, but instead shoved the rest of his bread into his mouth and then stood up and brushed the crumbs from his pants. He needed to hurry back, his dad needed his help today and Dean hated disappointing his father. But before he left, he asked Cas if he wanted to come to the church service with him and his family tomorrow, saying that if he really needed to go he would much rather have a friend to come with him, to make things more fun.

He almost expected Castiel to refuse the invitation, but to his surprise he accepted and with much anticipation blooming in his eyes. But Dean wanted to be sure. He told Cas he needed to promise to come or it would be easy for him to back out.

"I promise Dean."

They agreed to meet at the lamp post tomorrow morning and then go to the service together, and then Dean left for home with a big smile on his lips and Castiel went back to work, face a little happier at the thought of tomorrow.

* * *

Dusk was falling over the small American town, the cloud coverage that hung low in the sky turning darker shades of gray inching on black. The dark invaders had rolled in during the middle of the afternoon, obstructing the sun's warm rays and prohibiting a view of the sunset that was even now painting its way across the outer reaches of the clouds. Small white flakes had begun to fall as well, lightly drifting to the already blanketed ground, clinging to hats and long coats of the citizens.

Castiel stood on the street corner, small arms wrapped around him in a vain attempt to trap the minimum heat leaving his body. His round cheeks and small nose were a bright red, his ears not much better and his breath escaped in small puffs of fog in the failing light. He reached one hand into a little pocket and pulled out a small pile of matches, his face twisting into a mix of dejection and sadness at the thought that he would not be returning home that night. A spark of anger ignited in him, his fingers clenching into a fist around the small sticks as he momentarily contemplated chucking them as far as he could and watch them scatter haphazardly across the snow. But the thought was short lived and he simply shoved them further into his pockets, quickly wiping the free hand across his eyes to disrupt the gathering wetness.

Soon it became too dark to see very far, a cold biting wind had risen to blow the falling snow around to further obscure vision, and then the man with the long pole was walking down the street, reaching his small candle into the glass case on top of the lampposts and lighting the fires inside. Castiel stayed where he was until every lamp had been lite on the street and the lamp lighter had moved on, and then he ducked his head and hurried around the corner into a small alleyway that at least sheltered him from the wind.

Two tall brick walls rose on either side of the alley, one was a dark and closed up shop, the other a modest house. That building had a window that faced into the alcove and though the shutters were drawn shut, Castiel could see bright yellow light peeking out beneath the wood. He crept closer and as the window drew near the faint sounds of music and happy laughter drifted out and enveloped him. He was instantly engulfed in memories of warmth, safety, and the knowledge that he was loved by the one person closest to him. Before he could stop himself he was pressed right up against the window, longing to tear it open and climb inside. He pushed himself off the wall and scrambled to the back of the alley, trying to get as far away from the tantalizing image as possible.

The narrow passage ended with a dead end, snow was piled up in drifts against the back wall and almost covered a small bundle of old and broken wooden crates pushed into a corner. Castiel found the one that seemed in the best shape, brushing the snow off with a ratty sleeve and then curled up on top of it to try and get some sleep.

But sleep did not come.

The snow had continued to fall, even into the small nook he had taken shelter in, and it brushed against his cheeks, gathered on his neck and shoulders, and stuck to his exposed skin. The cold nipped at every part of him, from the tips of his ears the arches of his feet and back again. In a desperate attempt to escape the cold and darkness closing in around him, Castiel thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled free a match and struck it against the brick wall.

OoOoOo

A soft warm light grew as the match was lite, oranges and yellows danced across the brick walls and were scattered by the snow beneath. Castiel was captured by the slowly swaying flame and stared at it with deep concentration. And then, when he raised his head to look at the wall in front of him his eyes slowly widened in shock and disbelief.

In front of him, instead of cold red brown bricks, a large table was sitting before him. A crisp white tablecloth, as pure as a fresh snow fall, lay across its surface, the edges embroidered with patterned lace hanging down the sides. Many dark wood chairs were placed around the perimeter, the tallest two sitting at the head and foot of the table with beautiful place settings in front of each one. But the most captivating part was the food. A meal fit for a king was spread across its length, delicate china bowls heaped with potatoes, corn and stuffing, and the largest turkey Castiel had ever seen sat right in the middle of the table atop a gold trimmed serving plate. The smell was powerful and overwhelming, causing his mouth to begin to water.

But then something different caught Castiel's attention. At the far end of the table was a large doorway, the doors standing open and inviting to him. The sounds of merry laughter and excited chatter sounded just beyond and a feeling of anticipation filled him and he wanted to go and investigate. But just as the thought is produced, the match in his hand fizzled and died.

The vision faded and Castiel was left sitting in the snow colder than ever, and with the nagging feeling that he was missing something very important. Quickly he reached into his pocket and struck another match, watching the flame dance back and forth and then turned his attention to the light colored wall again.

OoOoOo

This time, as Castiels wide eyes come into contact with the supposed to be rough surface, he saw instead a tall fir tree. It was much taller than he was, with full long branches colored a soft dark green and it stood tall and proud in its small red stand. He had never seen a tree quite like this one. He had been to the forest just outside of town many times but those trees all seemed to tall and thin to have been the same kind of tree, and there was something very special about this one.

Shiny silver and gold tinsel draped over the branches, the edges catching the soft glow of the room and reflecting it up the walls in small dancing circles. Popcorn strung on thin strands marched along beside the tinsel, the smell tantalizing and fresh. Small delicate red balls hung from the strands, and that's when Castiel saw them. Resting on many of the branches were small gold stands, each held a pure white candle that was lite, the flames swaying as if in a dance and casting light around the room. They burned brighter than any he had had ever seen, almost glowing with an unnatural light, like a million small suns.

Beside the tree a fine blaze was burning in the hearth of a blue veined, marble fireplace adding to the light of the room. Warmth swam from the large opening, filling the area and stopping just out of full reach from Castiel, desirable and taunting. His arms reached up to try and draw in the warmth and beauty, but just as the last time, before he could grasp it the match again fizzled and died.

Now Castiel did not hesitate. He just wanted to be surrounded by those wonderful feelings, he craved them, so he pulled yet another match free and hurriedly lit it against the rough brick.

OoOoOo

The sight that greeted him was a rather unexpected one that left the boy puzzled.

It was a simple empty room before him, close walls and a single short table as the only furniture inside. Another pure white candle squatted in its stand, the wax dripping down the edges and pooling on the metal surface underneath as if the owner had lit it a while ago and left it burning. It casted a pale yellow glow across the floor and up the three empty walls.

Castiel's head swiveled in order to take in everything to make sure he was not missing anything, but the area remained the same. Confusion crept into his mind, wrinkling his tiny brow into a small frown as he couldn't help but wonder just what a small empty and strangely quiet room had to offer to him. That's when the sound of movement reached his ears.

Castiel's head turned and there, standing in the spot beside the table that had been empty earlier, was a man turned away from him. The man was short and wearing a jacket and pants, light brown hair tossed about on his head and all of a sudden, Castiel couldn't breathe. Back view or not, he knew that man, had spent many of the happiest years of his life with him until fate stole him up. It was his older brother, the one that died from a terrible accident not more than a few years ago.

Finally he was able to suck in a breath and he found himself shaking slightly, wetness gathering behind his eyes. Slowly, as if afraid to scare the vision off, he reached out a hand to the man. He longed to go to him, to hug him and could feel the joy filling him inside, when suddenly he caught sight of the edges of the room starting fade. Horrified at the prospect of losing his brother again, Castiel grabbed every last match in his tiny hands and lit every single one. The vision grew stronger, solidified until he felt that he had actually stepped into the room.

Castiel smiled lightly to himself and then started towards the man beside the table, finger itching to touch, eyes longing to see his face again.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, the sound of the church bells ringing through the air and winter birds chirping to wake the town with their song. The blue sky above was vast, small fluffy clouds floating lazily on the morning breeze and the fresh snow sparkled like magic dust strewn across the ground.

Dean ran down the boardwalk, bundled in warm clothing and a huge smile plastered on his face. His family walked not far behind him, John's arm resting comfortably on Mary's waist and young Sam trying to force his small feet to catch up to his older brother, each dressed in their very best. They were on their way to the Christmas morning service along with many of the towns other families, but Dean was excited to reach the street just up ahead.

He had told his parents the night before that he had invited Castiel to church on Christmas and that he had wanted to come with them. Both John and Mary had heard about their son's little friend, had been happy that he had made one of a child his age, and were now excited that they were finally going to meet him. Dean had never told him much about him, he himself didn't know a whole lot, and Mary really wanted the chance to get to know the boy whose name was talked about almost every day.

Dean rounded the corner of a shop and there, not five feet away, was the familiar lamppost standing on the street corner, frost clinging to the dark metal pole. But something was missing, or more accurately someone was missing. It was quite a surprise not to see Cas already there waiting, he was always there before him and Dean had just assumed today would be no different. Maybe he was a little late, it was Christmas after all. Dean stood under the lamppost, shoving his small hands into his coat pockets and watched as his family rounded the corner, determined to wait until his friend showed.

But he never did.

They had been standing on the street corner for close to ten minutes before John announced that they needed to leave if they were going to make it to the service on time.

Dean hung his head, dejection filling him as he slowly dragged his feet after his father. Cas hadn't shown up. Cas had promised to come and yet he wasn't there. Friends didn't break promises, no one should but friends especially, at least that's what he had thought before today. Dean crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl worming its way on to his face as he tried to think of a reason why Cas wouldn't have come, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't think of a good enough one that made sense to him.

The group had turned onto another street and were just passing by the mouth of an alley when Sam's small light voice pulled Dean from his brooding. His younger brother had latched onto his arm, tugging on the coat sleeve, eyes wide with excitement as he pointed to something in the alley.

"Look Dean, a shoe! I see a shoe in the snow!"

Dean peered into the long passageway cast in shadows trying to see what Sam was talking about. Then he too saw it, a small brown shoe lay in the snow beside some old wooden crates stacked against one of the walls. He simply smiles and ruffles his brother's hair, ready to keep moving after their parents when something catches his eye. He looks back at the shoe in the snow, squinting his eyes together to try to see better and sees it again. There's some fabric attached to the shoe, and upon further inspection, is revealed to be a pair of trousers. A faded blue color, ripped at what would be the knees and tattered and worn looking. A pair of trousers that he would know anywhere.

Dean didn't know he had called out to his parents, didn't know he had even left his brother's side until he was tearing down the alleyway at break neck speed. He urged himself towards the back, praying that he was wrong, that his mind was playing mean and nasty tricks on him. But just when he reached his destination he pulled up short, small eyes widening in pure shock and horror at the sight before him.

Castiel, his best friend, lay huddled on an old broken crate leaned up against a brick wall. His eyes were closed, his skin was paler than usual and his lips were a terrifying shade of blue. One leg lay dangling over the edge of the wood, foot dragging on the ground, and his small arms were wrapped loosely around his side in what looked like had been a vain attempt at keeping himself warm. A thin layer of soft pure white snow lay over his body, the snowflakes clinging to his tattered clothes and colorless cheeks.

Dean heard the sound of his family approaching behind him, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from what looked to be his friend's dead body lying there, burnt and used matches littering the ground around him. Then Mary gasped and suddenly he was snapped out of the dark trance that had been laid over him. He rushed to his friend's side, small hands gripping the stiff shoulders and shaking gently.

"Cas? Cas wake up," Dean coaxed softly, willing the boy to open those blue eyes and look at him. When no response came his shaking became harder, his voice more frantic. "Cas! Cas wake up! You need to wake up! It's time for church! You promised you'd come to church with me! You promised Cas!" Dean's voice broke and tears blurred his vision, a few already streaking down his face.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms gathered him up and he was pulled into his father's warm chest, the man's deep voice whispering apologizes to him. The gentle hand of his mother smoothed back his hair and rubbed his back, her comforting words mixing with his father's.

"You promised."

Dean wanted nothing more than to sob into the warmth and safety of his father's embrace, but he just couldn't knowing Cas was just a few feet away, no longer here because of the cold. So he pushed out of his arms, scrubbing an arm over his face before slowly turning to face the still body. It was scary just how much he seemed pulled by it, the feeling to look and then never look away ever again, but as he did he couldn't shake the guilt that clouded over his head and weighed down his shoulders. He was just about to turn away again when he noticed it, the faintest movement of his friend's chest.

A single breath.

Cas was still alive!

Dean shouted and John instantly rushed over, kneeling down and placing an ear to the small boy's chest. A beat, then two. Then finally his father's head shot up, exclaiming he heard a heartbeat, that there was still hope. He yanked his own jacket off and hurriedly wrapped it around Cas' slight frame, lifting him into his arms and took off towards the street. Dean scurried after him, trying to match his father's speed as they raced for their home, trying to beat the clock.

* * *

**End of Part 1**

**Thanks for reading everyone. Hope you enjoyed and Merry Christmas! *walks away***

**...Wait a sec...*runs back***

**There's still a second part to this story isn't there? Oops sorry, almost left you hanging. Well the second part will be up ASAIWI (as soon as I write it) which should be fairly soon seeing as how I have a 6 hour drive ahead of me for a family vacation, but it won't last more than a week and then the second half should be up by then. Sorry, family duty calls. **

**Hope you enjoyed this first installment, and please Review if you did, heck even if you didn't and you have some tomatoes you're just dying to throw please do, I welcome it! **

**Until next time *salutes***

**SPNAngelGirl**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Everyone**

**Alright, I know I know this is extremely late...I promised a week and its been over a month...but I'm sorry I just wasn't expecting to be bombarded the minute I got back to school with final projects and studying for my exams! But it's all over now and I was able to finish! HORRAY! **

**Warning: Following story may jerk a few tears. If you're suseptible to the emotion named Sadness and do not wish this knowledge to be exposed please turn back now! All others, handkerchiefs AND tear collector buckets are on your right. **

**Disclaimer: You know...you really don't want me to own anything ;)**

* * *

The door of the Winchester house hold banged open, rebounding against the wooden wall with a loud crash before swinging back around, only to repeat the process again and again as each family member entered the house one after the other. John first, followed closely by Dean with Mary and Sam not far behind. Young Castiel's limp body was handed off to Mary, wrapped up still in the large coat, and she held him close trying desperately to keep him warm as John rushed out of the room, Sam following at his father's call.

Dean quickly knelt by the fireplace where the ashes from the morning fire were still smoldering in the hearth. He picked up log after log from the wood box, placing them in a hurried pile and then coaxing the ashes to a flame. He blew, and fanned and poked until the bottom logs caught fire and soon warmth was pouring out into the room.

John re-entered the space, pulling with him the bed frame and mattress from the spare room that was down the hall. He positioned it in front of the fire and then hurried over to take the chilled boy from his wife's arms. Sam toddled back in, small arms loaded with large wool blankets and made his way jerkily towards Mary who was quickly making the small bed up with a pair of small white sheets. Dean was sent off to grab some of his clothes and once he returned, Castiel's worn and stiff ones were replaced with his. They were far too large for his slim frame and hung off him like sheets on a clothes line but it was the best they had. He was then placed on the sheets, blankets piled on top of him to capture whatever minimal body heat he was producing and keep it there.

Once the excitement was over and the family was finally able to take a step back and breath, Dean left into the kitchen only to return with a small rickety wooden chair that he placed beside his friends bed. He sat down, leaning against the mattress and just watched Castiel, afraid if he took his eye off of him for a second he would disappear out from under his nose.

His family left him pretty much alone after that, each going into a separate room to tend to other things. Dean was never asked to come outside and help with the daily chores, Sam never came in to bug him or ask him to play, and Mary only came in a few times over the course of the day to check Cas' temperature and make sure he was staying warm. Dean didn't move from his spot all day, watching every movement of the small chest and even once letting out a little prayer that his friend would wake up and get better for him, what could it hurt after all.

Christmas day soon ended and though Cas' body seemed to be getting warmer, he didn't wake up. Dean refused to leave his friend's side and went into the room he and Sam shared to grab his mattress and dragged it back into the living room to plop down in place of the chair. John and Mary didn't say a word. They could see how worried their son was and didn't wish to agitate him by denying him the thing he needed most right now. Time would tell the rest.

* * *

Morning dawned and Dean was up with the sun, clearing his makeshift bed away in order to make room for the chair by the bed. And there he assumed his position from yesterday. He planned to be there when Castiel woke up, and he would wake up, that he was convincing himself as truth.

Mary and John spent the day trying to figure out just who the boy belonged to. Not even Dean knew who Cas' parents were and both of them were sure that whoever they were had to be worried sick about their son, and so the hunt began. Mary asked all around with the town's ladies while getting food at the market, and John conversed with the men that came in and out of his shop throughout the day. But much to their frustration and dismay, though they had all seen him no one seemed to know where the boy came from. The sun was starting to dip low to kiss the western horizon before a break came from an unlikely source. The Lamplighter.

The man had heard about their search and by chance, bumped into John on his way home that evening. He told how young Castiel was always on that street corner when he came down the road and would stand there and silently watch him light the lamps, captivated by light created for the area.

For the longest time all the lamplighter himself knew was the boy's name, like majority of the town's people. But one night while making his rounds along a different street he had happened to look down a narrow alley and had recognized Castiel walking up to the door of a small house, the roof rickety and leaning to one side. The boy hadn't knocked before entering through the single door and the man assumed that was his home.

John thanked the man, and they headed on their separate ways. Now John had a street name and a description of a house, it was one step closer to finding the truth.

Well after the sun had drifted past view he found the area he was looking for. And just as the man said, about half way down the street there was a narrow alleyway where a single house had what looked like a back door leading into the small space. John went around to the front and it looked much as the man described. It was quite old and squatted right in between two much nicer homes. The roof was dropping along the front and slanted to the right and the whole building seemed to lean to the side as if bearing a great invisible burden.

While John was studying the house before him, a woman in a pink flower print dress, and light brown hair that was tied up in a bun atop her head, exited the house to the left of him. She stopped, startled when her hazel eyes made contact with the stranger, but relaxed when she found him non-threatening and even smiled politely at him.

"Can I help you sir," she asked, her voice carrying like a quite melody in the silent cold air. "Whatever you need to know, I don't think you'll learn much from Mr. Crowley."

"Mr. Crowley," John asked, a puzzled expression drawing his brows down and wrinkling his forehead.

The woman nodded. "Yes, the man who lives in that house. Along with Mrs. Lilith of course. If you don't mind me saying sir, those folks I assure you are not the best to be going to for information. You'll be lucky if they don't roast you up for dinner simply for being outside their door."

John turned away from the house and towards the woman, flashing a bright smile at her. "Well then maybe you can help me." The woman leaned forward in anticipation, drinking in the kindness radiating from his person. "I'm looking for a young boy, not more than twelve years of age with a mop of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. Have you seen him anywhere?"

The woman put a finger to her chin, eyebrows quirking up in thought. Suddenly her eyes brightened and a small sincere smile graced her painted lips. "Oh you must be talking about Castiel!" At John's nod she continued, her excitement starting to show on her face. "Oh what a dear he is, the Lord bless his heart. He is quite the strong boy that one. First losing most of his family in that sickness that swept through years ago, and then losing his last remaining brother in a terrible accident, or at least that's what I've heard. And then to have to live with that shameful couple when they became his caretakers." she clicked her tongue against her teeth, shaking her downcast head.

John was surprised to hear that the couple were actually Castiel's caretakers. And even more surprised when the woman continued on to tell him that while she hadn't seen hide or hair of the boy in two days (which was highly unusual) the two had been uncharacteristically happy for those same two days, going so far as to invite a small gathering of people to their house the other day and drink long into the night. That's when he decided he had heard enough, thanked the woman and went on his way back to his home and awaiting family.

When John told Mary what he found out about Castiel's caretakers he could tell that she got the picture really fast. He saw the look in her eyes and knew that sweet and kind Mary was one step away from marching over there and beating some sense into those arrogant people. It wouldn't happen though, even if she did try and attempt it he would stop her, it wouldn't be worth the trouble that would surely follow on its heels. Instead they sat down at the dinner table together and talked in great length about their next plan of action. They came to a conclusion not long after.

They were going to keep Castiel.

When he started feeling better they would go to Mr. Crowley and ask that guardianship be passed to them. If they needed to go to court, or even pay money, they were willing to do so. They had decided that that young boy was not going to spend another day in the oppressive home if they could help it, and they were prepared to do anything that was necessary in order make sure he stayed with them.

A few feet away in the living room Dean had fallen into a light sleep in the wooden chair, his head resting on Cas' bed by the boy's still hand. His dreams are short clips of the memories he had with his friend that fly through his mind at break neck speed, going so fast that soon they all seemed to blur together, becoming too much and suddenly he bolted up right wide awake.

He took in the room around him, it had darkened as the sun went down and now the only light was an orange glow dancing across the walls from the fire place mixed with the faint yellow rays emanating from the doorway to the kitchen. Dean sat back in his chair, his light eyes drifting back to the form huddled under the mountain of blankets, one hand having found its way out and was now laying still across the top blanket. A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he silently watched Cas, getting caught up in the feeling that he was like a guardian to the small boy when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

Cas' hand twitched.

Dean sat, frozen to the spot staring at the limp appendage. The small fingers twitched again, a little harder this time as if they were fighting off the urge to curl into a fist. His eyes shot up to his friends face in time to see the slightest movement as his eyelids began to move.

"Mom! Dad! Come quick."

John and Mary rushed into the room just in time to see Castiel's head roll slightly to the side and his eyes gently flutter open. His sleepy gaze wandered curiously around the room until he spotted the adults standing not too far from his bed and his eyes widened with what looked like fear. Then his name was called and the gaze slowly drifted down and bright blue meet lush green once again. Castiel's lips stretched into a faint smile.

"Hello Dean."

* * *

The next morning Castiel woke gently, eye lids slowly lifted open to the sight of sunlight streaming into the small room, lighting up the small flecks of dust that floated gently through the air. He turned his head and took in the sight of a small wooden chair standing vacant beside his bed, it's occupant obviously had left before he woke.

The sounds of early morning chatter reached his ears from another room and he knew instantly that the missing person had not gone far, and would no doubt be back soon. So instead he turned his attention to taking in every detail of the room around him. He briefly remembered waking up the night before, images of fire light, dark corners and a familiar face brushing through his mind as the only indication he had awoke before now.

And then, just as he predicted earlier, a small head of messy dirty blonde hair turned the corner, green eyes sliding around the room before landing on the one thing they had been hoping to see for a long time.

"Castiel," Dean shouted, and raced across the room to launch himself at the bed. He landed miraculously on his feet, but the momentum merely continued into his arms as he reached forward and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. The boy looked deep into his eyes for a moment, then appearing satisfied with what he saw released his friend and sat back in the chair. Castiel felt himself missing the warmth of those hands and wishing they would come back.

Dean instead started talking adamantly to Cas about everything that had happened the past few days. Doing so led him into the subject of Christmas, which happened to light up something in his eyes. A smile grew on his face as he started relaying the wonder and magic of his favorite holiday to his favorite person, hands swinging around wildly as he described certain aspects. He even got up and ran to the other side of the room to show him their small Christmas tree that, despite its size, stood proudly in the corner.

Castiel smiled slightly at his friend's enthusiasm, but when he saw the tree he couldn't help but remember the visions he had had in the alleyway that night, and remembering that brought back the unrelenting feelings of longing. Dean saw the change that crossed the boy's face, the way his lips turned down and his eyes grew distant. He didn't want Cas to look like that and he wracked his brain to think of a solution. Just then something occurred to him and with a quick word to the boy on the bed he ran to his room.

Dean returned holding something behind his back, just out of Cas' sight. The blue eyed boy was curious as he casually strolled back into the room when suddenly he leapt forward and hung something around his neck.

"Your Christmas present."

Castiel looked down and was greeted with the sight of the long, blue and black striped scarf that Dean had been wearing the other day now dangling from his neck. It was made of a wonderfully soft material that brushed gently against his cheek, the ends caressing the hands on his lap with care, and the blue color made his eyes look even brighter than before. Slowly he looked up into his friend's eyes and a genuine smile graced his features, a warm feeling that he hadn't felt in such a long time spreading through his body.

"Thank you Dean."

Dean smiled back, overjoyed to see the happiness on Cas' face.

Because Castiel was still too sick and weak to get out of bed and Mary didn't want him to overheat, they moved his bed across the room and placed it beside a small window that looked out on snow covered fields that sparkled in the late morning sun. Dean moved his chair as well and spent the day keeping the boy company with family stories and any jokes that he could remember that might make him laugh. Sam came in once in a while to help entertain Cas, bringing with him the deck of cards they got for Christmas and the three attempted a few games of Go Fish, Dean laughing hard at the serious way his friend approached the simple game.

At one point in the day, Dean told Cas about his parents decision to take him in if his caretakers allowed them custody. At first it didn't appear as if he was affected by the news, his face remained stoic as always. But because Dean knew Cas, he saw the way his eyes lit up ever so slightly in what could only have been described as hope. He smiled at the small boy and then started explaining to him everything he had planned to show and do with him once he got better.

* * *

But Castiel didn't get better.

At first it appeared to be the exact opposite. He started gaining strength again, after a few days he got out of bed and sat with the Winchester family around the table for dinner, and everyone assumed the best. But as the week continued, all the progress he had made started to disappear. It didn't take long for him to become too weak to leave the bed again, and soon he couldn't even sit up on his own. The doctor that was sent for was baffled by it and couldn't give the worried family a solid answer, telling them that prayer was the best tool and leaving them with nothing but hope. Dean felt the worst about it, he hardly wanted to eat if it meant being away from his friend. He used every second to try and get the quickly deterring boy to smile at him, holding on to the faint belief that his friend would get better.

Castiel felt it one morning as he lay still in bed, the day seemed different from the beginning and instantly he knew it was time. At first he felt terrified, he didn't want it to happen, but the fear was soon replaced by an in-explainable sense of peace that washed over him like a flood.

It was later in the evening when he asked Dean to come to his bedside, and the boy came running when the faint call of his name reached his ears. Castiel asked if he could help him to sit up so he could see the sunset, he loved the colors and wanted to witness them one last time. The boy eagerly rushed to comply, retrieving another pillow and helping him to sit and propping his slim body up with the pillows so he could see out of the window.

The sun was already setting, casting a ray of fiery oranges, soft pinks and deep purples across the surface of the snow covered fields outside the little house. Castiel smiled to himself and watched the scattered colors with true happiness as they slowly grew more vibrant with each passing minute. Dean watched as well but when he turned to look at his friend he could see the content look on his face and was instantly worried. Without fully understanding why, he found himself grabbing the small boy's hand tight, causing their eyes to meet. With a hint of desperation twisting in his voice he assured him that everything was going to be alright, he was going to get better and they could watch many more sunsets together.

Castiel merely smiled faintly and shook his head. "Dean. You are the most wonderful person I have ever met," he said gently, his voice hushed and slightly raspy from the sickness. "I was truly blessed to have had someone like you in my life, no matter how short the time was. I shall never forget you." He squeezed his friend's hand, cherishing the warmth and committing the moment to memory.

A single tear slipped down Dean's cheek as the thought of his friend leaving tore through his mind. He begged Castiel to stay with him, telling the boy that he was like a brother to him, that he was afraid.

"I don't want to lose you."

"It will be okay," Castiel reassured him. "I love you Dean and I am glad I could spend these minutes with you. I wouldn't rather be anywhere else." He shot the boy one last smile before relaxing into the pillows and closing his eyes.

His grip on Dean's hand loosened before falling limply open onto the bed, still gripped in the boy's fist. He instantly panicked, eyes widening in shock. "Cas," he shouted in desperation. "CAS!" When he realized his friend was gone he buried his face into Castiel's hand, sobbing into the rough blankets as the sky slowly darkened outside.

"I love you to Cas," he whispered into the empty air.

Castiel died in the Winchester's house, the sunset shinning on him, one of the most important people to him by his side, and a smile on his face.

* * *

Castiel opens his eyes to find himself in a room much like the small empty one he saw in one of his visions, except now there's a large, full Christmas tree in front of him. A wide fireplace decorated in fern branches and holly berries rests beside it with a warm fire burning in its hearth, the orange glow dancing across the floor in hypnotising patterns. But this time he can feel the warmth pouring from the large opening, can smell the sweet scent of pine tree needles, and he can't help but stand there and stare at the beauty that surrounds him from every corner of the room.

That's when someone, very quietly, says his name. Castiel freezes, eyes widening and slowly turns around, almost afraid of what he will find, afraid that there will be no place to hide if there really is nothing but pain that will greet him.

There at the other side of the room is a shorter man with light brown hair and caramel eyes, his young face breaking in half by a large grin that crinkles the skin around his eyes with small smile wrinkles. Castiel feels tears prick at his eyes as he allows his mouth to form the name he had mercilessly forced himself not to say for the last few years.

"Gabriel."

His older brother's smile grows even wider, if that's possible, and he opens his arms wide in beckoning to the young boy. Castiel shouts his older brother's name and runs across the room, jumping into the strong arms he's missed so much. He's pulled close in a large warm hug and for the first time, in a long time, he feels truly and utterly safe again.

Gabriel pulls back, and laughs, his voice like a hundred beautiful chiming bells to Castiel's craving ears. "Hey baby bro" he whispers gently as a tear slips out of his eye. Castiel knows he's also crying but they are finally tears of joy, the kind of tears he can't hold back even if he wants to. He just wants this moment to last forever.

That's when the sound of merry laughter and the clinking of utensils against plates reaches the room through a pair of half closed, frosted glass doors. The deep rumbling of a man's voice quickly followed by the higher melody of a woman's and the squealing of children. Castiel turns wide eyes back to his older brother as recognition clicks in his brain. Gabriel merely hugs him close again.

"Welcome home Castiel."

* * *

**End**

**...*hides behind Cas*...please don't hate me!**

**Cas: You killed me, why should I protect you?**

**Me: Well hey...its was a nice ending right?...right?...*sigh* alright never mind. I'll leave you now because I have an extremely allergy to dying and would rather not experiment just how deadly my allergic reaction can be ;) As always. please review! **

**Until next time *salutes***

**SPNAngelGirl**


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